


Festivities

by saliache



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elven frolicking, F/F, Galadriel & Ilmare, if you know what i mean, passing mention of Feanaro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saliache/pseuds/saliache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Artanis meets a Maia visiting the forest just outside Tirion and frolicking ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Festivities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baradduh (flamingflamingos)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=baradduh+%28flamingflamingos%29).



It was just before the mingling of the Lights that Artanis decided to go frolicking in the woods.

 “I haven’t been to see the local Maiar in years,” she told Findaráto, who nodded politely and turned back to building an aquarium for one of his new lizards, who preened in its sun-jeweled collar and watched her with lidded eyes.

 “Send them my greetings?” he asked, rooting a small piece of driftwood into the sand.

 “Of course,” Artanis replied, fishing her dancing shoes from the bottom of her bag. She was almost certain there would be little dancing involved, but it never hurt to be prepared. “And if my odious uncle comes along, kindly send him packing, would you?”

 Findaráto sighed. “Yes,” he murmured resignedly, clearly intending to do no such thing. “Have you two still not made up?”

 Artanis grunted but relented, unwilling to spoil her good mood. “We have all of eternity before us, brother. Let us test our wits on each other for the next few centuries before we settle down.”

 “I see,” Findaráto said dryly. “Very well. Go, then. I can see you are impatient to be about your business.”

 Artanis laughed and left him to his pets.

* * *

The air was sweet with honeysuckle. It was a new smell, and Artanis wondered which Maia was visiting from the distant mountains.

 The forest was as well-tended as ever, but Artanis could see no Maiar lurking in the streams or flitting through the bushes as was their usual wont.

 Well, so much for dancing, she thought, marching resolutely onward. There had to be a reason why the Maiar would leave their usual haunts, and she intended to discover what it was.

 The answer was soon upon her; she stumbled nearly by accident into a newly-made clearing, the trees bending over to let her through.

 Most of the missing Maiar were there, gossiping in little puffs of song or twining gleefully about a central figure – also a Maia, Artanis realized, and on newly-arrived as well.

 “Greetings,” the newcomer called. “Child. Will you not come closer?”

 Artanis stepped forward, curious. As she drew closer the smell of honeysuckle grew stronger, and she could see that the Maia wore the shape of a tall woman with pale hair and a crown of flowers – the source of the honeysuckle smell, she thought. “I will,” she said. “Who are you?”

 The Maia laughed, a soft bell-like sound. “You know me,” she said. “Although perhaps not in this form.”

 Artanis frowned. “I do?”

 The Maia did not look at all displeased – rather, the opposite. “We met during the harvest festival four hundred and fifty-three years ago. I believe you tried to pull out one of my tail-feathers before your mother snatched you away.”

 Artanis felt her jaw drop. “ _Ilmarë?_ ” she cried.

 “The same,” Ilmarë replied, nodding. A hand reached up to stabilize the honeysuckle crown. “I was returning to my Lady after a visit to Yavanna’s gardens.”

 “I see,” Artanis said nervously. She wasn’t sure attempted tail-plucking was what she wanted to be remembered for, at least not by the likes of the Handmaiden.

 Ilmarë took Artanis’ hand in hers. They were cool and soft, Artanis noticed, rather like the first breath of wind after a long time by the fire.

 “Neither you nor I have come here to bandy words,” Ilmarë said, leaning down to kiss Artanis’ hand. The honeysuckle crown slipped off entirely, and the wind caught it deftly and blew it onto Artanis’ head. “Will you dance?”

 “I have come here to dance,” Artanis said, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle. “Why should I do aught else?”

 Ilmarë laughed at that. “Then dance!” she cried, drawing Artanis into the first steps of a wild jig, and the woods about them filled with song. Artanis danced, laughter bubbling in her throat, and she added her voice to the song.

 She could not guess at how long she danced, only that the quality of the light changed more than once, and Fëanáro had surely come and gone from her home already. Finally, Ilmarë drew her aside.

 “The revelry continues,” she said in a low voice, the wind shifting to screen their words. “But I must go, and I suspect that your own people will come to miss you soon.”

 “I suppose so,” Artanis said, still breathless, as she stretched out the beginnings of muscle aches in her legs. The honeysuckle crown slipped over one ear, and she tossed it onto the head of a water-Maia, who grew another face and winked cheerfully back. “Will we meet again?”

 A smile lit Ilmarë’s face. “If you so desire,” the Maia said, and leaned over to kiss Artanis full on the lips.

 “Perhaps,” Artanis murmured, kissing back fiercely, “soon. I believe I feel a visit to my aunt the High King is in order. Shall we see each other there?”

 “Of course, Lady,” Ilmarë said, bowing again, and was gone. Artanis turned away from the sounds of revelry, already growing fainter now, and began the long hike home.

 Of course, she had something to look forward to soon enough. The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she hummed as she picked her way through the silver-lit trees. 


End file.
